How may I scare you?
by MonAlice
Summary: Set during “Comrades in arms”. Hawkeye comes to talk, Margaret doesn’t want to listen. And just how exactly will one and the other land her in bed!
1. Talk is silver

A/N Hi there. It's been a while since I posted anything and now I'm back with a whole new story.:) I'm still going to continue "In the middle of the night" (as a new story though), but this idea grabbed me suddenly and keeps me hyper for last few days. It's less fun than ItMoN and it will unfold slower but give it a chance.

The story is set during "Comrades in arms".

**How may I scare you?**

Chapter 1.

Talk is silver

Margaret was fuming. Literally.

Quite frankly, she was almost sure she must be walking around the compound with little steam clouds protruding out of her ears, ever since her big exit from the mess tent some thirty minutes ago.

The thing, that Major Margaret Houlihan hated the most in the world - well, besides the lack of order and discipline, that is- was being made a fool of. And the way Hawkeye Pierce has been acting all the way since morning, had her wound up and feeling immensely and utterly stupid. He behaved like absolutely_ nothing _had happened. Like she imagined the sparks. Like she imagined everything else. Damn it! She most certainly _did not_ imagine those, and it meant that he either was trying to make a fool out of her (she mentally noted to murder him, and dispose of his body later in a manner befitting his crime), or was making a royal ass out of himself. In any case, she was maybe widely known for being aloof, but hardly anyone could accuse her of hiding her negative feelings. No, the jerk may be charming as devil, but he still would be hearing a piece of her annoyed mind, as soon as she'd have the displeasure of seeing him again.

She heard a rapping on the door, and smiled to herself like a cat would over a bowl of cream. This was just too easy, his tapping being all sorts of characteristic and all.

"Come in Captain" she said in a mockingly honey-sweet voice. "You see, I have _a lot_ to say to you." the door he was just opening creaked ominously.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Hawkeye was walking towards Margaret's tent, not really happy with what he was about to do. So maybe he's been a complete moron all day long. So maybe Major deserved an apology. It's not like he never did both of these before. Well obviously, he did a lot less of apologizing than acting like a moron, as he's always prided himself in being mean _and _sneaky. Still, it was not the vision of pleading with her for forgiveness, that worried him the most. It was BJ's question from mere moments ago, that sent him on this quest, and kept his mind mesmerized ever since.

"_Are you afraid of her, or of yourself?"_ BJ had asked.

It was a damn good question, even if he didn't take it well back then. He just erupted with denial filled blabbering, trying to drown out any other thoughts that might want to surface. Like the one that BJ- his current, if not freely chosen bunkmate and best friend- might have been onto something when he blatantly suggested Hawkeye must be caring for Margaret.

The question was, did he really.

He's always thought her very attractive, beautiful even. Strong and funny, with a sense of humor probably matching his, if she actually decided to use or show it. Also, she was full of inbred quirks and behavioral patterns, which he loved provoking her into. These traits truly made teasing her such an enjoyable pastime. Over the years though, he developed kind of a grudging respect for the woman. He guessed that 'friendship' would be the best term for describing what their mutual relationship has become as of late. The safest term, perhaps- if he actually decided to use any term at all.

Still, last night had changed some things and even though he was not exactly sure, as to how exactly, he was no more able to forget it and go back to normal, than he could go back in time, visit Sigmund Freud and then, tell Sidney bunch of 'you-should-have-been-there' kind of stories. Not that he'd like to forget last night, mind you. It just that, this new development needed time to sink in. It turned all he thought he knew upside down, without giving him any of so desperately needed answers. These would have to be found sooner or later, but for now he had to face Margaret's wrath quite empty-headed. Oh boy, that wouldn't be a proverbial piece of cake. How could he get her to go along with the usual '_we're so different, lets just remain friends_' speech? The lady was smart and wouldn't buy any bullshit. Nevertheless, just for the sake of maintaining his fragile peace of mind, he'd at least try to pull it of. Maybe his famous _women-luck_ would decide to kick in this time? It never did, with Margaret before, and it was really high time it did.

He knocked at her door and winced hearing her voice. Not good. He had known it wouldn't be easy, but what he just heard didn't bode him well.

"Hello Margaret" he entered greeting her conciliatorily. "Look, I know you're angry, but I just came to apologize-" he started. She shot him a lopsided glance before gracing him with an answer.

"You know, I'm really glad that you came" she was now facing him showing off a seemingly sincere smile.

"You are?" he was considerably unconvinced.

"Yes, Hawkeye. That saves me the trouble of going out to find _you_" she beamed even more, even more suspiciously. "I figure, that very soon you too will be _ve-e-ery_ glad you came here."

"I will?" he felt his self confidence deflating in the face of this rather petite, but dangerous enemy.

"Of course. Or maybe you'd prefer I tear your head off in public?"

He shrugged showing aloofness he didn't quite embrace.

"Oh, I guess doing that in private is perfectly all right" his voice came out much weaker than he intended.

"Good" she nodded taking in his anxiousness in all it's glory. "I wanted to tell you what I thought of-" she took up angry pacing while he decided, that resting on a nearby chair was a wise thing for him to do. "your absolutely childish behavior this morning!" He was listening meekly, partly because he though he might be deserving some of it, and partly because he felt it would be too dangerous to interrupt.

"I mean, what were you thinking brushing me off like that?!" Ha! He would be unable to answer that one, if she actually required an answer. It seemed though her tirade was on a self-fueled roll. " You were mean, and inconsiderate, and I honestly don't know _why_ I expected _any_ different from _you_!" Now, that was unfair, and he tried-against his better judgment- to butt in, only to be brutally cut off.

"But Margaret-"

"Silence! I am not finished yet!" fallen out of rhythm as she was for a moment, she returned to pacing vigorously not noticing something Hawkeye already had. The flame from the flickering desk candle, caught on to a pair of stockings ( Black silk, he noticed absentmindedly) hanging on a lopsided string, that ran all the way up to the main tent pole. The pole holding the rest of the laundry on a more horizontal string leading to the door. The pole in front of which Margaret was currently standing and lecturing his ears off.

"And the whole: _'What do you usually say?_ ' remark, was a low blow, _even_ for you Benjamin!" She threw her hands in the air, and faced him once again, her back turned exactly on the slithering fire. As if in slow motion he could see it getting closer and closer to her hair. Petrified he tried warning her.

"But Margaret, look-"

"Look yourself, Mister! At least for _once,_ _do not_ interrupt me, will you?!" He'd be dead already if the look could kill, but then again so would she be in a matter of seconds, if he didn't do anything. Over her right arm, he saw the ends of her hair catching fire and that triggered him into action. He grabbed a bucket of water standing next to the cot , and poured all of it over Margaret's head.

"Whoa-"she gasped beforehand, and then just stood there trying to catch air like a fish taken out of water.

"Are you OK, Margaret?- he held her and looked at her closer, mostly out of professional reasons of course. When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse.

"What do you mean, 'am I OK'?! I was perfectly fine before your bucketful of water hit me like a ton of bricks!"

"As usual, no gratitude." He tried going for a lighter tone, but she was still angry like a wet she-cat. A jaguar she-cat.

"Gratitude?! What gratitude? For what? Honestly, I never thought you were one of these people who couldn't listen to someone's unfavorable opinion about themselves without attacking the person _physically_? What's wrong with you?!" she pushed him, both hands on his chest.

"Margaret!' he held her hands down, and drew her closer "Your hair was on fire, I had to wipe it out!" He looked at her pleadingly.

"My hair or the fire?" she mocked. "If you think that such a blatant lie will get you excused, then you are gravely mistaken." she wrenched herself free and pushed him away. "I think that for one day- if not for a lifetime, I've had just enough of you. So get you chief surgeon ass out of my tent, and go have fun making someone else's life more miserable!"

He would have left her there and then, but as soon as she shot her last venomous blow, hysterical sob shook her body, and she started crying quite uncontrollably.

It seemed she was sometimes too much even for herself. Especially when in shock.

"Shhh" he cooed "C'me here." He beckoned her closer, even though she was still taking small steps back, away from him. "Come on Margaret, I don't bite unasked. It will be all right" he smiled reassuringly and she looked as she'd be considering his words, but as she was doing so, she still withdrew one step further.

Later, whenever any of them was trying to remember how exactly did she manage to trip over the stranded bucket, fall back and hit her head precisely on the metal corner of her cot, be rendered unconscious but still not damage her head irrevocably, they couldn't really explain it but the fact is, that this was exactly what happened.

Hawkeye checked her vitals and even though he was somewhat relieved she was alive after such a stunt, he was still rather worried than glad, when he picked her up and carried to the post-op. BJ who was currently on duty viewed him quizzically, his left brow raised, but helped him to get her into bed without question. It was only after Margaret had been already settled, that he shot him the first, very BJ-like inquiry.

"Was that really necessary? You were only supposed to talk to her, not club her." He quipped.

"I must be loosing my touch" Hawkeye spat ungraciously through clenched teeth.

"Oh no, from what I see-" BJ indicated Margaret's head wound with a nod, " the '_touch_' is working just fi-i-i-ne" he drawled unfazed by Hawkeye's lopsided look. "It is just the brain that should go behind it, that is missing"

"Ha ha. Very funny. It was an accident. OK? I'll check her up" BJ did not even attempt to mention, that it was he, who was currently on duty- he knew his stubborn friend all too well. " and you go fetch Radar-" he was interrupted by a timely entrance of a half asleep company clerk, who just happened to stumble through the right door.

"Huh. Strange I thought I was going to the toilet-" he began and then saw the scene.

"Radar!!" the doctors exclaimed in unison.

"I know. I'll wake up Colonel Potter-"

"…Wake up the Colonel!"

"and I'll notify Ltd Colonel Penobscott-"

"…and call her husband immediately!" Radar was out of the doors before they were half through the last sentence.

Hawkeye was already cleaning the wound, and for a while he an BJ worked wordlessly- he cleaning and sewing, BJ handing him needles, threads, antiseptics and bandages.

Any thoughts of tomorrow, of what will happen when she wakes up- if she wakes up- , he pushed those away to the furthest corners of his mind.

He would have to think them one thought at the time, when it came to it.


	2. Peace Talks Are Priceless

A/N Thank you for the lovely reviews that gave me much pleasure, and so much needed strength to go on. :)You see, my company has gone insane lately, and we're constantly made to do overtime, and even work Saturdays. Sharing the rest of my time between some attempts at private life, and writing fiction has been a bit trying but I'm doing my best. Also this chapter must be feeding of my life force. I grow more tired day by day, and this little Mister gets longer and longer. Now, how else should I interpret that, huh? Anyway I had to cut it in two so for now I supply you with part one.

**How may I scare you?**

Chapter 2

Peace Talks Are Priceless

"Son, we have to talk" Colonel's hoarse voice sounded somewhere over Hawkeye's left ear, as he found his right one currently buried among hospital sheets. He must have fallen asleep sometime last night, half sitting on a chair, half lying on Margaret's hospital bed, and from the pain in his back he knew he was going to pay for it dearly. It seemed though, the world in general wanted him to pay for more than just that. "Come to my office. You know you have some explaining to do." his CO stated, and left.

Hawkeye glanced up to sleeping Margaret- unhappy to leave her, and then his eyes searched for BJ, but as it was Charles' turn for a post-op shift, he found none of the moustache man in sight. Winchester, on the other hand, made a nasty ' _You're in trouble, and I'm gla-a-ad'_ sort of face, but then his expression turned a shade more sympathetic, and- though still pompously- he said: "Run along with Colonel, Pierce. I'll have my eye on her, so don't worry." Still Charles being Charles, he couldn't stop himself from adding " I'll take care of her properly, no bumping her head into things on _my_ watch."

Hawkeye half-smiled at him while stretching himself. "Thank you Charles, you're a wonderful human being-" He got up and followed Colonel Potter, just in passing shooting a final, parting blow. " if you try _hard enough_."

0o0o0o0o0o0o

Hawkeye finished recounting last night's events to his CO, obviously omitting the more juicy details, the official version being: they argued, her hair caught fire, he extinguished it, she tripped. All logical and believable, wasn't it?

Potter looked at him suspiciously. There was something uncanny about this whole story, but he just couldn't tell at the moment what ticked him off as odd. Still the explanation was so stupid, that would Pierce really want to lie, he'd probably have come up with a much better story. When Margaret awoke, he'd ask her too just to get all the facts straight, but his experience with this crew told him, that this was one of those many times he should let the matter slide. Plus he should be thankful to God Almighty, that no such thing happened while Frank Burns was still around, otherwise he'd already have him hanging from his neck like a bloodthirsty hellhound, nagging him to court-martial Pierce for attacking a senior officer. Hail to Frank Burns, and his being stateside, he chuckled to himself. Then he opened the cabinet, pulled out a bottle of five years old Four Roses bourbon and poured half a glass each, both for himself and for his chief surgeon, ignoring Pierce's presently saucer sized eyes.

"Colonel, bourbon in the morning?!" A question not a mockery. The boy really had it bad today.

"Oh, don't act so shocked, Captain. Like you're not drinking all around the clock."

"Well, yes sure. As I always say, any time in Korea is after 5 p.m. _somewhere_ in the world, but -"

"You've never seen me drink at this hour?" Potter asked and Hawkeye nodded.

"Well son, you and Major gave me a terrible fright. _Again_ I might add. The night before you were lost, last night you get into a fight and one of you gets set on fire and wounded?! I reckon it calls for a morning drink?" there was a smile tugging in the corner of his lips, but his eyes remained solemn and fixed on Hawkeye's face. "One for Major's recovery, shall we?" he raised his glass to Hawkeye, and the younger man mirrored his movement. They drank in silence for a while, both deeply sunk in their thoughts.Eventually Colonel spoke again.

"Listen son, I don't know what happened between the two of you, and I don't mean to pry but –" he viewed Pierce quite sternly. "you have to sort it out, the sooner the better. "He looked again to see Pierce squirming in his seat, like a scolded child. His tired gaze softened a bit.

"I know, Major can be difficult at times, but than again so can you and I really can't afford to have my staff bickering all the time. I need you all in the best possible shape." he looked at his chief surgeon, faintly hoping this pep talk gave the boy at least _some_ motivation. And indeed, he saw a glimpse of life returning into Pierce's eyes.

"Then Colonel, you'll have to have us all discharged and shipped home with the first stateward bound transport. We'd be in top form then, you know."

"Very funny, Captain. Still, I'm glad you're back to your cocky self, 'cause that means I can burden you with a bunch of shiny new responsibilities !" he smiled broadly, seeing and hearing the younger man groan. "First of all you'll have to cover taking care of Major Houlihan-" he watched Pierce smile. " but in all aspects other than medical. "

"What? Just what do you mean precisely?"- young man, seemed unsure how exactly should he interpret his superior's use of wording. Col. Potter knew very well what Pierce's first thought had been and he silently chuckled, deciding to play him some more.

"What to you mean, what do I mean? I've expressed myself clearly, haven't I?" Pierce's face could speak volumes right now, but instead of teasing the boy further, the Colonel went on. " In any case, we decided-"

"We?"

"Myself and Hunnicutt. Once you've passed out on Major's hospital bed- he called me and we had a chat. In conclusion, we decided that considering the circumstances, Hunnicutt should act as her doctor for the time being" Potter saw Pierce didn't like it much, but at least he didn't _voice_ any protest . That was highly unusual, but more than welcome. "In the mean time you will sit with her, bring her meals, get her what she'd need from her tent. Whatever, she needs- you're her slave, till being told otherwise."

Pierce was grunting. "And whatever happened to actually _rewarding_ a hero for saving a damsel in distress? In stead of, you know, _pu-ni-shing_ him?"

"Well I _could_ give you her hand in marriage, and half of the compound, but you'd still have to negotiate it with the Koreans, Penobscott and- I believe- Major herself. Maybe reversing this order." Potter joked observing Pierce paling a bit and gulping audibly, and then continued more seriously.

"So for now, go for something easier. Be nice, talk to her. Try not killing her and not getting killed yourself. Also, observe if she didn't hit her head too hard, if you know what I mean."

Hawkeye nodded, then he seemed to have remembered something. "But sir, about the whole 'not killing each other issue"… Taking things from her tent?! It sounds like a seriously bad idea. If she thinks I went through her stuff, she'll kill me the moment she gets up. Even more so, if she wakes up with a _killer_ headache! " he quipped lamely.

"Good point son. " the Colonel as per usual ignored Pierce's misguided attempts at humor, keeping to the more pressing matters. "Take nurse Jig with you. And no,-" he said seeing the hopeful look on Hawkeye's face. "she can't go alone. You know well, she's merely a 2nd Lieutenant and Major might want to kill her off too, if she wakes up with her head pounding. Which I strongly suspect she will." Pierce shrugged but nodded reluctantly.

"In any case remember- the most important thing is to get this thing between the two of you settled peaceably once and for all! _Before_ you not only kill each other, but also turn the whole camp into a battle field. Go and take care of it. And this is an order!" Hawkeye looked at him quite unhappily, but- yet again-did not oppose. Were it not for all the commotion that brought on this kind of submission, the Colonel would almost wish for it to be present every day. He sighed. "Now, BJ says that the head wound is just a surface scratch, and that the bandage will be taken of somewhere in the afternoon. I think he'll allow to move Major to her tent then, so you need to help her and check on her from time to time. Also, I received a message that tomorrow morning Penobscott will arrive, so please inform Major about it, if I don't get a chance to do so." He watched Hawkeye nodding in right places. "And now scoot. Leave me to joys of Mildred's letter and bourbon. And don't let anyone bother me till at least ten hundred hours!" Hawkeye left Colonel's office accompanied by a definite and strong "Yes sir!" coming from the front desk, at the top of Radar's little lungs.

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Half an hour later Hawkeye found himself in an empty tent with an attractive looking nurse, doing nothing even remotely forbidden. Hell, they even had an official permission for rummaging through Margaret's things! The errand was built on such a striking lack of fun, that the old Hawkeye would have already done something outrageous just to counteract the boredom. His gaze lingered for a moment on Jig's properly rounded bottom, while his mind considered the possibilities, not finding any of them particularly enticing. It was the new Hawkeye that reverted his eyes though, returning to visual inspection of the tent's upper walls and ceiling. He was wondering silently, since when has he become 'the new " anything, and what exactly would that status entail. True, lately he was thinking of Margaret a lot. He wasn't looking at other nurses in any other way then strictly businesslike. Work related businesslike, that is; which for such a women lover as he considered himself to be, was- for the lack of a better word- disturbing. Sure, he was preoccupied with her condition. He was feeling slightly guilty about the whole fire extinguishing ordeal, too. He was also very confused with how intense- in all possible aspects- their mutual behavior has become of late. Still, was that really a reason for him to be so out of his game?

Jig was currently shuffling through Margaret's garments, choosing underwear, and some regular clothes for later. She already prepared a tooth brush, toothpaste, and some cosmetics, while Hawkeye was keeping a safe distance not to disturb the girl in what she seemed to be doing very well.

Instead he looked around, and noticed the bucket that was still lying overthrown. He picked it up, and set it next to the desk. On the desk itself he could see the half burned candle-stub, and some papers decorated with frilly remains of what used to be black stockings. He scooped these and threw them to thrash-bin, nested on the other side of the desk, but while he was doing that his mind began processing some facts. The papers he just saw, mostly inserted in cloth-bound filing folders, were probably some shift reports, personnel files and medical staff shift schedules. A quick glance inside the covers proved him right. Still, it was the marbled navy blue and white composition book, with nothing written on the name label, that seemed to draw his attention mostly. Thinking about it now, he's seen Margaret carrying it with her on several occasions. Always among piles of other paperwork, so he never took particular notice of it. Now- for some reason- he found it mesmerizing.

He glanced back to see Jig, still stuck among Margaret's pieces of clothing, some of them on the floor. It seemed that the girl was clumsy enough (which was odd, for she was shaping up to be a really good surgical nurse), and had scattered what was previously a neatly folded pile of mostly purely army attire. Normally he would help the girl, but today he merely nodded at Jig's offer to clean the mess up alone. His fingers were itching to open the notebook, as he was finding it much to intriguing to pass on it now. He lifted the front cover, obscuring the book with his back from Jig's sight.

The first thing he saw, was a folded letter stuck next to it's envelope. It had to be the letter that Margaret had gotten on the day of their 8063rd-bound field trip, the one she was so sour an secretive about. He knew it was wrong to read it, but then again so was looking into the notebook, so he didn't really have any moment of hesitation. He looked at the envelope first. He's come to know well Margaret's slightly rounded but firm and straight handwriting over the years. and he could tell instantly this one wasn't it. It was slightly leaning towards the right, in thin spidery curves, and if that was not enough of a give-away the envelope clearly identified the sender as Ltd Col. Donald Penobscott. It also was showing Maj. Margaret Houlihan-Penobscott as an addressee, which was quite interesting, considering the heading which read "My dear Darlene". Darlene? Who the hell was Darlene? Was it some sort of a nickname Penobslob had given her? If it was, he was hearing it for the first time. Or seeing. He went on, mouthing the words silently.

"_My dear Darlene,_

_How long it's been since we walked together on the beach at Oahu._

_I can still see the moonlight splashing at your shoulders and hear the gentle 'whoosh whoosh whoosh' of the waves-"_

Okay. Hawkeye might have seen Major's marriage pretty one-sidedly, but he still was one hundred percent sure she and her spouse had never been together to Oahu or any other part of Hawaii. There had been plans about it, yes, but the Army with it's usual timeliness prevented them very efficiently from ever coming true. Which meant that Darlene was not some role-playing nickname, but a real person's name. Someone whom Penobslob held in his memories_ very dearly_. No wonder Margaret had been so pissed off the other day, even before they left for the 8063rd. And this was only the beginning- the letter went on like this for nearly 3 pages! He scanned the rest of contents quickly to find other incriminating parts, some sentences underlined with pencil, with Margaret's sarcastic comments on the margins. Still, there was one paragraph he could not miss even if he wanted to. Deeply etched pencil underlined the words that Major's husband wrote so lightly.

"_I know you heard I've married. You'd like her. She's competent and a hard worker. She'll make an excellent hostess when we return to the States. All in all, a sturdy woman._"

The word sturdy was circled and decorated with three exclamation marks drawn next to it. And the empty line between this paragraph and the next one sheltered a lone, penciled sentence in Margaret's even handwriting.

"_I mean nothing to him"_

It was almost heartbreaking to see, and Hawkeye remembered that evening in the abandoned hut, when he had asked her what was wrong, and if it had been about the letter. Instead of a proper answer Margaret just gave him a sad look, while uncontrollable silent tears started first rolling, then streaming down her cheeks. He hugged her instinctively and for a while they sat like that, embracing each other- both of them wordless and in a world of their own. Obviously, once Margaret gained back the control over her emotions she tried putting up the barrier again, but at this point he wasn't fooled anymore. Besides, once the Korean army commenced with the shelling, Major's shields came crushing down again and then her need to be held, and his to hold and protect overpowered them both.

He felt a rising anger towards her jerk of a husband, but he managed to stifle the to urge to crush the letter in his hand. Instead he folded it as it had been and stuck it back into the notebook, the item which finally seemed to strike a cord within him. It was so, because he remembered now, waking up that morning in the hut to the sight of Margaret scribbling feverishly in the very same composition book. He had watched her for a moment, seeing the frown of concentration creasing her forehead, her teeth firmly and frequently biting the pencil-end, and he stirred wanting to ask her about what it was that she needed to put down so badly. The moment he showed any signs of life though, she smiled broadly, put away the pad and started chirping in an all to bright fashion. The happy chirping was so out of character for her, that not being able to help it he went into a rigid state of full denial mode right away, obviously all thoughts about the writing pad successfully erased.

Now, when he actually had a chance to _know_ what she had written then, he couldn't let it go. He flipped through the pages impatiently, to find the latest entry. And there it was, a lone page with no comments just a letter draft with many corrections. The final version being:

_Dear Hank_

_I'll never forget the night we spent in that abandoned hut. __You gave me your warmth and your caring when I was afraid, and now I think from time to time when I'm afraid again I may have the courage to let another person know it. You've helped me to grow a little._

_Thank you Hank._

It took him a moment to comprehend, but then he chuckled in mirth over how brilliant Margaret truly was. Sending the bastard a reply containing a letter meant for another man? How much more cunning could you get? It was a character trait, quite similar to his own, that he's always loved about her. Personally Hawkeye was sure that this letter, if she'd actually decide to send it would cause much more commotion than any long tirade she might possible conceive. Obviously with Penobscott's planned a arrival to the camp the chances of sending were slim, but it was the thought that counted, and the fact that the letter hand been actually meant for him, only made the matter more interesting. He closed the writing pad, placing it back on the desk. He smiled to himself, thinking fondly of all kinds of unpleasantness he could perform towards Margaret's husband when he'd arrive tomorrow morning.

He turned to see Jig already waiting for him, ready to pose some verbal comment of a mocking variety. He beamed at her with a slightly apologetic look, and noncommittally put his arms on her shoulder as they walked out of Major's tent.

"Let's go bring the Sleeping Beauty her bare necessities, shall we?"

"You must mean the sleeping dragon?" she mused cooly.

"No-" he said quite joyfully. "I meant what I said." he hesitated though under her doubtful eye. Jig did have a point. "OK. Let's make it 'the sleeping dragon beauty'. Does is sound more appropriate?" She nodded, and he proceeded to humming and then singing loudly a new set of lyrics to a well known melody.

"We're off to see the Dragon, the beautiful dragon that sleeps-" he sang while pulling Jig into a merry, large-stepped jogging towards the hospital tent.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

A/N 1

3211 words and it's just bout the half of the chapter. oO How, I ask, how has it come to this?? :) And now for the planned notes:

A/N 2

1.Now pray tell me where might I have stolen the 'You're a wonderful human being" line from?. If there more then one sources, so be it, but I know it mostly from a certain one movie. So, anyone? :) I'll make a Mexican wave (by myself , but I move fast :) for the winner… ;P

Disclaimer-wise, it's not like I steal on purpose, mind you, it's just that I'm a closet cultivator of postmodernism in writing, and this line just fit so darn well.:)

2. As you probably know in initial seasons nurse's names were derived from the Joint Army/Navy phonetic alphabet, that was in use in U.S Army from 1941 till 1956, I decided to adhere to this noble tradition when I was naming my purely random nurse.

Also when I saw the code word for "J" I just couldn't help myself ,as for me the word itself is just so inseparably connected with Japanese manufacturing system (if you don't want to take my word on it, ask Maple Fay she'll tell you the same. ) that for personal reason I just **had to** put it in! And voila: we have a nurse Jig :)

3. I'm not 100 sure but from what I checked, nowadays the Army Nurse Corps members are all officers, the lowest rank being 2nd Lieutenant, which is followed by 1st Lieutenant and Major. I'm not sure how it was in the 50s but for my own convenience (not to mention the sake of my mental health) I decided to go along with the current status. If anyone knows more, do share but I'll probably still leave it this way .:

4. As some of you will notice (I'm taking in the account the possibility that not all of you know _every_ MASH episode by heart. God knows I'd like to, but I don't :) I had to edit some parts of "Comrades in arms" in order to fit my story. I did not originally plan it, but since I already deprived Margaret and Hawkeye of a chance to have a peace-talk about their feelings (lol, by setting Margaret on fire. Some people are right I _am_ cruel.), I thought that finding both letters and reading them by his lonesome, would make a stronger impact on Hawkeye's budding realization than hearing them from Margaret. And It worked. First he's angry at Penobscott, and the childishly happy, even if he can't quite trace the reason. For such an intelligent man, you're a simple creature at times, Dr. Pierce :)))


End file.
